Fireteam Katana
by Dutch977
Summary: After the human/Covenant war ended, the Halo rings are still intact and continue to pose a threat to life in the Milky Way. An orphan ODST and his comrades jump out of retirement and voulunteer to find and destroy them. Rated M for mature.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

**Desolation**

---***---

**New York [Manhattan, East American Protectorate], Earth [Sol System], October 20 2552.**

The weather above Manhattan Island was taking a turn for worse. Pitch black clouds rolled in, blocking out the vibrant streaks of colour smudging the sky and casting a dull grey gloom over the crumbling buildings. On the jagged skyline was a fork of lightening, followed by the faint roll of thunder.

What remained of the civilians had been killed or evacuated. Left behind were cracked streets, crumbling buildings and piles of rubble where the faces of entire structures had fallen loose to reveal the skeletal metal frames within. Nothing stirred in the buildings, not even a mouse. Further into the city, the sky lit up, streaks of fire and smoke trailing into the angry black clouds as the civilian evacuation pods were launched. A trio of Hornets patrolled the airspace around the evacuation centre, their chin mounted guns swivelling and sweeping the rooftops below.

One of the pilots turned his head and felt sweat prickle his neck, seeing the Covenant ships crawl closer. They were miles away, at the very foot of the long island. In the distance the bulbous ships looked like flying fishing hooks, hovering still and serene in the sky, running lights blinking across their perfect sleek hulls. It would only be a matter of minutes before the aliens were all over them.

But in fact the Hornet pilots had about forty-five minutes until the Covenant ships were right on top of them. Whiskey two-zero had much less time than that.

The convoy of five M12 Warthog light reconnaissance vehicles tore through the city, weaving through abandoned cars and piles of rubble, making a straight line for the evacuation centre. The three warthogs in the middle of the single file formation were 'troop-hogs,' jeeps fitted to carry personnel and cargo. In the front seats were young ODST, black impact plating clad marines with specialised training. Their armour covered every inch of their body and bulwarked everything from their neck down to their boots. But even with their armour bulking them out slightly, the teenagers looked like children seated in the wide warthog LRVs.

The civilians in the back of the troop-hogs looked no better. But the civilians didn't look that great to begin with. Some of them were wounded, cradling burns in blood smeared hands. They were covered in dirt and carrying what little belongings they had in battered cases and torn black garbage bags. They looked fatigued and terrified at the same time, some of them fixated on the Covenant ships skirting the southern end of the island.

Coming up on a street, the sign for which hung limply from a crooked lantern pole, the lead warthog, retro-fitted with a light anti-aircraft machine gun on the back armed by another ODST, put the pedal to the metal. One by one the warthogs started to pick up the pace... except the last one.

Private Martin Chapel didn't even have time to curse as he clutched the handhold on the roll-frame above his head. He almost rolled out of his seat and into the driver's lap as Corporal Daniel Mason tugged at the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The tail of the jeep swung wide, tires screeching as they changed direction ninety degrees, and Daniel slammed his armoured boot back down on the accelerator, causing the vehicle to leap into a street perpendicular to the route the rest of the evacuation convoy was taking.

"What the fuck is going on?" the marine manning the gun, Private Perkins yelled. "Mason, what the fuck, man? The convoy is..."

"Shut the hell up Perkins!" Daniel snapped.

Martin opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, when the squad leader's voice yelled at them over the radio. _"Whiskey two-five! What's going on? Where are you going?"_

Martin was about to reply when Daniel turned off the warthog's comm. system. The corporal glanced sideways, and Martin wished he could see his friend's eyes through the silver tinted visor of his helmet, just so he'd know what Mason was thinking.

"They're not far from here." Daniel said loudly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Martin yelled angrily.

"I can't leave them, Dutch!" Daniel yelled back.

"Samantha's smart enough to know what the fucking sirens mean, Daniel!" Martin shouted. "She would have brought the kids to the evac-centre straight away!"

"I have to be sure." Daniel took his eyes off the road and looked Martin straight in the visor. "Goddamn it, Dutch... Martin... please."

Martin looked away from the corporal before glancing down and cursing out loud, kicking the dash board before tugging his rifle out of the hold beside his seat. Aiming the muzzle of his BR55HB battle rifle into his foot-well, Martin yanked back the charging handle and cradled the weapon in his lap.

"Perkins!" Martin yelled, his gaze remaining forward. "We're taking a detour! Possible civilians left behind! This shouldn't take long, all right?"

"This better be all right!" Perkins replied. "Because I swear to God, if everything is not all right..."

The ODST in the front of the warthog ignored him as the gunner went on a rant.

"Hang on!" Daniel yelled just before the warthog's front bumper clipped an idle vehicle, smashing the front of the delicate civilian craft and sending it spinning out of their way.

The road curved turned north and led past the massively redeveloped Central Park. Patches of grass were scorched, lakes seemed to be dried up and thick roots burst out of the ground where a downed pelican drop ship had crashed into a large oak tree.

Then something hit the road beside them. Martin ducked before looking up to see a phantom drop ship glide through the air beside them. It skirted dangerously close to the city rooftops and kept its chin mounted plasma cannon trained on the speeding warthog.

The Covenant drop ships were big enough to house twenty soldiers, had a smaller plasma cannon on the rear of the troop bay, a larger, heavier gun mounted just under the nose and had the manoeuvrability of a VTOL gunship. The beetle-like drop ship nimbly banked over their heads and soared over the park's treetops.

"Uhm... Mason?" Perkins said.

"I see it." Daniel said with some annoyance as he weaved through the street, decelerating as little as he dared to weave around obstacles.

"Mason!" Perkins shouted more urgently as the plasma cannon fired again, incinerating the road dangerously close to the right front wheel.

"I see it!" Daniel yelled irritably over the sound of the gunner yanking the charging lever of the machine gun. "Fuck! Hang on!" he clipped another vehicle, seeing no other way through a cluster of parked obstacles, causing the warthog to jolt and send two cars spinning out of their way.

Martin glanced over his shoulder to see Perkins swivel the weapon around, aiming the three barrel rotary gun at the drop ship. The private gritted his teeth, feeling the air in his chest cavity vibrate as the gunner thumbed the fire controls of the machine gun. 12.7 Millimetre titanium tipped armour piercing rounds were pumped out of the weapon in handfuls. The AIE-248MG was perfect for turning other light vehicles and light aircraft to Swiss cheese. It also worked wonders on infantry, turning enemy personnel into paint.

The barrels span and flickered, sending twelve rounds at the aircraft with every burst. In response the drop ship weaved and ducked, rising and falling behind the canopy before soaring over them, plasma gun flickering. Bolts of supercharged energy hit the road beside them, splashing them with heat and negligible amounts of radiation. Never the less, Martin panicked as he heard his armour's internal Geiger counter click furiously. The phantom swooped ahead of them, hovering low over the street to reveal the rear of the drop ship hung open. Looking up, Martin spotted the stationary plasma gun mounted to the deck of the troop bay, manned by a squat little alien in orange armour. The rapid fire weapon wasn't as powerful as the phantom's main gun, but could still incinerate infantry.

The plasma gun hummed and the grunt manning the controls unleashed an unrelenting volley of blue bolts.

"Down!" Martin cried as he dropped down into the foot-well.

Heat painfully prickled the back of his neck as plasma splashed across the angled armour of the jeep, melting the windscreen. Perkins didn't take his thumbs off the triggers and continued to fire up at the drop ship.

And then, suddenly, cool relief as the drop ship weaved and swooped right, belching smoke from the troop compartment. Looking up, Martin heard an alien scream. Explosions rippled across the side of the drop ship as it fell sideways, catching itself at the last minute, just before scraping across the rooftops. A second later came the whine of an unstable fusion coil. An explosion suddenly burst out of the top of the drop ship, scattering flaming debris everywhere. The craft's nose dipped and it rolled hard to right, smashing front first into a line of buildings. Dust and debris scattered over the road as the phantom hooked on something, spinning around and falling into the street in front of the speeding warthog.

"No!" Martin yelled, pointing at the phantom.

"Yes!" Daniel yelled back, flooring the accelerator as the phantom fell into their path. "Hang on!" he eased on the gas a bit and tugged at the steering wheel.

The LRV twisted right and slipped up onto a sidewalk. As they ploughed through an abandoned hot-dog stand, the phantom crashed into the street upside down and slid to a painful halt, sparking and flaming furiously. As soon as they broke through the stand, Daniel weaved back out into the street, narrowly avoiding what looked like magazine kiosk.

"Oh, snap you can drive." Martin said queasily, clutching the dashboard tightly.

"Yeah!" Daniel yelled relieved, glancing into the cracked rear view mirror. "Take that you fuckers!" he burst out laughing. "You okay back there, Perkins?"

Clutching his rifle, Martin turned in his seat. Perkins wasn't there anymore. He was literally gone. He must have been hit and fallen off the warthog. And at this speed, if the plasma didn't kill him, the fall would have. Grimly, Martin turned to front again.

"He's gone, Daniel." Martin said softly.

The corporal's laugh died in his throat and he fell silent.

They eased down on speed and slowly pulled up in front of a tall apartment building. This was the place. This was where Daniel's family lived. A two thousand room building, a nice kind of neighbourhood and close to a good school. But as Martin leapt from the warthog and looked around, the neighbourhood didn't seem as nice as it used to be. It looked ghostly in the stormy gloom, littered with rubble and deserted. Swallowing hard, the Dutch seventeen year old marine shouldered his rifle and followed the corporal up the steps to the front door.

Daniel didn't waste any time, putting his boot through the glass door and forcing his way into the stairwell. It was quiet, their footsteps hollow in the empty building, echoing up the staircase as they climbed to the fourth floor, weapons level, ears straining to make out any sounds.

Reaching the top of the last flight of steps, the corporal took cover by the open door and indicated the direction Martin should cover by pointing with his index and middle finger. The private nodded and followed Daniel in, weapon raised. He flicked on his torch to illuminate the hallway's shadows as he swept the area. He cleared his direction and nodded at Daniel, who nodded back. The corporal pointed down the hall Martin was facing, and the younger ODST gingerly led the way. Turning off his torch, Martin noted the numbers on the apartment doors.

"Three-fourteen..." he muttered under his breath. "Three-sixteen... three-eighteen... three-twenty... here it is. Tree-twenty-two."

Martin stood perfectly still, watching the slightly askew door. The frame was splintered, lock forced open. There were shuffling footsteps inside, and the distinct hiss of breathing apparatus. Carefully Martin pressed the muzzle of his rifle against the wooden door and slowly pushed it open. He immediately froze on his view into the apartment's living room. Strewn out over the couch was a body. It was a young woman, twenty-four years old, curled dark blonde hair and her dead pale blue eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. She had plasma burns all across the front of her body, and her limbs were nonchalantly strewn out over the furniture, her blood still wet and glistening on the teal upholstery. Standing by the young woman's body was a grunt, inspecting the corpse with curiosity. The small bow-legged alien wasn't much taller than the couch and waddled with a hunch, lugging the large methane tank on his back as he sniffed at the woman's dead face, his breathing mask hissing and venting cold gasses.

Martin quickly turned to grab Daniel, knowing exactly what was coming next... but he was too late. The corporal had already seen the corpse of Samantha Mason lying there.

"Dan... shit!" Martin cried out as Daniel pushed past him and kicked the door open completely.

The corporal cried out with a mixture of rage and grief, still clearly heard over the roar of his assault rifle. The MA5C chattered as a dozen rounds flickered from the muzzle. The first three rounds sliced through the grunt's head, causing the creature to topple sideways to the ground, spilling phosphorous blood on the carpets. Methane hissed from the creature's breached helmet as the next rounds sliced into another grunt sniffing around the room. This one took the rest of the burst in the chest, causing its armour to come apart and the alien's gut to blossom open like a slimy, bloody flower.

Martin was in next and fired a burst, toppling a third grunt minus his head. A familiar screech caught the private's ear and he glanced over his shoulder through the bathroom door. Inside was a jackal, a tall, lean, bird-like reptilian monster. It held a plasma pistol in one hand and had a collapsible energy shield mounted on the other wrist.

The pistol came up at the same time as Martin's foot. His boot made contact with the alien's wrist, and a sickening crack later the energy weapon clattered to the ground as the jackal fell back a step, screeching in pain. Martin's rifle came up next, and a three round burst later the alien's beaked face caved in and his brains spurted against the far wall behind him.

Martin turned to see Daniel let loose a sustained burst at something that came charging out the bedroom. The private moved closer only to find himself seize up as an elite entered his field of vision. The seven foot monstrosity threw himself across the room, Daniel's rounds bouncing off his personal force field and connected with the corporal. The human fell over backwards and crashed through the coffee table, ending wood splinters and shards of glass flying everywhere. Daniel cried out as the alien landed on top of him and raised a fist. The hand came down and smashed into the ODST's helmet, cracking the visor, before coming up again.

Martin launched himself forward, rifle first and ran straight into the elite's side. The alien's shields flared as the alien fell sideways and hit the ground. Martin caught himself and stayed on his feet, planting a boot against the elite's back and aiming his weapon point blank at the alien's head. The alien's roar was drowned out by the battle rifle burst that ended his life.

Martin was about to clear the room when something crashed into him. Recoiling from the blow he saw a second jackal had thrown himself against him. The alien held what looked like a short energy blade in one hand, and slashed at the human. The private ducked back as the blade swished by, crackling with energy before Martin jumped forward and stomped his foot down as hard as he could on the jackal's thigh. The bone snapped and the jackal keeled forward to meet the stock of Martin's rifle. The alien fell to the ground and the private finished him off by crushing his skull beneath his boot. The jackal's last screech died in a crack and a wet gurgle.

Breathing heavily against his helmet's faceplate, Martin straightened up and swept the living room. It was clear... for now. Looking down, the private saw Daniel had crawled over to where his wife lay. He was sobbing against the inside of his helmet as he gently closed Samantha's lifeless eyes. Martin didn't even want to know where the kids were. He didn't want to have to look for them either.

Dropping his weapon in its sling, Martin grabbed hold of the corporal and dragged him to his feet with much protest.

"No!" Daniel yelled. "Let me go!" he struggled, trying to shake the private off him. "I'm not leaving her... I'm not leaving them!" he corrected himself, probably thinking where the kids were now.

"They're dead, Daniel!" Martin yelled, pinning Daniel against the nearest wall. "They're dead and there's nothing you can do about it."

There was a long silence before the corporal broke down sobbing again. So many emotions tore violently through his heart. Grief, hatred, sadness... pain... he couldn't register all of them at the same time. He didn't know how to register... he didn't have the faintest clue how to handle any of them right now. He wanted to curl up and die. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted his misery to just end.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but we have to go." Martin said softer this time. "Remember what you taught me?" Martin didn't wait for him to answer. "There is always time for grief after the mission is over... the mission is not over yet, sir. We still need to get to extraction."

Daniel stared at the younger ODST for a long time, remembering those wise words he'd taught to the private himself. It felt like a lifetime ago. Taking a long breath and swallowing hard, the corporal quickly nodded.

"You cool?" Martin asked for good measure, knowing very well the corporal was the opposite of cool right now.

"Frosty." Daniel muttered, turning and leaving the apartment, completely forgetting his assault rifle which lay forgotten beside Samantha's body.

Martin followed him out and helped the corporal stagger out to the street. He let him lean against the hood of the warthog for a moment while he caught his breath. Martin quickly checked down either end of the street for any contacts. The Covenant weren't on top of them yet. They still had a chance to make it to the evacuation centre.

That's when Martin heard a faint wail. It started as a soft whistle of wind rushing through the buildings, then amplified into a full blown deafening screech. By the time the private thought of looking up the building exploded.

A blue sun blossomed out of the apartment's roof, tossing dust and debris into the air. The foundations shook and collapsed. The building imploded, falling in on itself, belching thick black smoke and clouds of brown dust into the air. More shells hit the ground. Two more hit the apartment building, one a neighbouring building and another hit the street. The ground shook as the enemy artillery rained down on the street, exploding around them. Daniel was on the ground before Martin knew what was happening. By the time he realised they were being shelled it was too late. As he turned to grab Daniel and run for cover when a shell hit the warthog right in the midsection. The resulting explosion swept Martin off his feet and launched him into the air before he hit the ground hard.

Everything went black.

He felt blood running from his nose, down across his cheek. For a while all Martin could hear were hollow thuds of the shells hitting the ground further down the street. Quickly the shock passed and his hearing returned. The thuds grew louder and more frequent. Then a scream filled his ears and he thought of Daniel.

Forcing his eyes open, for a moment all he could see was the blurry outline of a burning tire rolling past his field of vision. The world was on its side. He was lying on his front, looking down the street, through the flaming debris of the warthog and splatters of blood on the inside of his visor at Daniel lying on his back. His arms were outstretched up to the sky, his armour melted and smoking, his voice shrieking in pain at the top of his lungs. Pressing his hands against the ground, Martin managed to rise to his knees, and eventually got unsteadily to his feet, stumbling through the bits of shrapnel and flaming chunks of molten plastic. As he got closer he saw Daniel's injuries better. His visor was shattered and bits of tempered glass were embedded in the side of his face, blood running into his right eye. His chest plate was cracked and melted into his chest and some of the impact plating was peeling off to reveal his uniform was scorched underneath.

Martin didn't even say anything. He just grabbed hold of the corporal, lifted him off the ground, draped him over his shoulders and straightened up. More shells shook the ground. The apartment building behind him half stood, rickety and ready to collapse. Martin would prefer to be a block away when whatever was holding the building up gave way. He ran into the nearest alley on the opposite end of the street and followed it into the next block.

The next street looked empty. Struggling under Daniel's weight, Martin slowed to a walk and emerged onto the pavement, looking out over the new stretch of abandoned cars and bits of debris. The tremors the artillery shells caused were less intense here... but the adrenaline suddenly kicked Martin in the gut again.

Something moved on the other end of the road. A trio of jackals, two of which had their pistols ready and shields deployed. The lead jackal, a particularly ugly example of nature with vibrant red spines fanning out along his neck screeched, hefting his sleek plasma rifle in one claw while flicking his other wrist. In a burst of light a thin round energy shield projected, detached from his wrist by a few millimetres.

"Ooooh, shi..." Martin started seeing the two other jackals charge their plasma pistols.

He reached down for his rifle... it wasn't there.

The plasma weapons hummed and glowed with sickly green energy...

They aimed...

Suddenly the whine of rotary gun fire filled the air, followed quickly by trails of dust in the ground as hundreds of 40mm titanium jacketed rounds raining down on the three aliens. The two minors were just tossed to the ground where they twitched before they died. The leader was exposed to longer bursts of fire and was literally torn bloody chunk from bloody chunk where he stood. Big, gaping holes blasted through the reptilian creature, tearing away chunks of flesh, splintering bone and ripping off limbs. The shield didn't even last a second and popped out of existence as the jackal's life fluttered and was extinguished almost instantaneously.

Martin looked up with surprise to see a bulky DC77-TC pelican hovering over the street. With the rumble of the artillery and the blood pounding through his ears he couldn't hear the whisper quiet whoosh of the four pivoting engines, two on the tail nacelles and one on each wing. The drop ship slowly rotated on a central axis and smoothly lowered to the street, kicking up clouds of dust. Martin strode closer.

Someone pulled him aboard. The next few minutes moved so quickly, he didn't even notice them pass. A medic took care of Daniel. Another pulled off Martin's helmet and checked him for injuries. Other than a nosebleed and some bruises he was unharmed. Daniel wasn't so lucky. Severe cuts and grazes, third degree burns and his right gauntlet was infused with his skin. As he watched the medic pump pain killers into the whimpering corporal, the squad's sergeant bounded across the troop bay and knelt beside Martin.

"Dutch." Sergeant Oliver Reynolds said, softly at first. Realising Martin was seized; Oliver patted the private on the shoulder. "Dutch!" he called louder this time.

Martin snapped out of it and looked up at the bigger marine. Oliver had always been the biggest of them, built like a tank and he looked like he could punch like a freight train.

"Uh..." Martin took a breath, squeezed his hazel eyes shut and shook his head. "Sir! Sorry."

"What happened?" Oliver asked patiently. "Where did you guys disappear off to?"

Martin looked at Daniel as he slipped out of the conscious world. What could the private say? 'We ran off to find Daniel's wife and kids to find them mercilessly slaughtered, so now we've lost a corporal because he's emotionally compromised?' That wouldn't fly. As soon as he got better, no matter how his condition, Daniel would want to fight. If Martin told Oliver the truth, Daniel's chance for revenge would evaporate.

Martin opened his mouth, paused, then took a breath and looked Oliver straight in the visor. "I... sorry, sir. It was my fault. We got lost... I'm not good with maps..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Fireteam Katana**

**Section 1**

**The Vilnius**

---***---

**Interval 01**

**Getting Started **

---***---

**Cavan Outskirts [Ireland, European Protectorate], Earth [Sol System], May 3 2563.**

Jack Cryll narrowed his eyes, raising the pistol to the side of his face. The thirty-two year old retired army veteran slowly leaned out from behind the barrel, snapped his pistol down into a firing position and squeezed the trigger. The electric weapon let off a childish gunshot noise, the green LED in the muzzle blinking like a strobe. Across the back yard of their suburban home, eleven year old Killian and nine year old Amy squealed and ducked for cover behind their mother as their 'tag-vests' started blinking to indicate they were being shot at.

Jack looked a little ridiculous with the blue tinted goggles over his eyes and a tag-vest several sizes too small strapped to his chest over his brown shirt. Never the less, he seemed not to notice, and still moved with the speed and precision of a soldier.

Kate Reynolds raised the tray of potato salad higher, laughing at the sight of the thirty-two year old playing laser tag with her children as she scooted out of the line of fire and placed the tray on the garden table.

"Hey! Freckles! Miscreant!" Oliver called to the kids from the barbeque while he flipped over a charred burger as the hot coals belched black smoke into the air. "Duck for cover on the other side of the yard!"

Oliver was much like Jack, well dressed, healthy and happy. Tied to his front over his neat clothes was a white apron with print that read 'Kiss the Cook' on his chest, protecting him from the burgers that spat oil and grease as they cooked... or burned rather.

As Kate sat down, the other woman sitting at the table sighed as she watched Jack run after the laughing children, both parties blasting at each other with green lights. Susan raised her head and called out to Jack.

"How old are you?" she called.

"Old enough to enjoy top of the range laser tag!" Jack replied, not taking his mind off what he was doing.

Shaking her head, Jack's girlfriend turned in her seat to face Kate. "He's like a big kid."

"You'll get used to it." Kate smiled. "Oliver was the same." She nodded to her husband as he struggled at the barbeque. She suddenly squinted at a trinket on Susan's finger. It was a ring, a slim band of white gold with a glittering diamond perched at the top. "Susan... where did you get that?" she took the woman's hand and examined the ring closer.

With an exited sigh, Susan tried her best not to smile from ear to ear. "Jack bought it for me." She practically trembled with excitement. "He asked me to marry him."

Kate was about to squeal with excitement when a voice cut over the sounds of the laser tag battle in the background.

"Congratulations." Martin called with a smile, shutting the yard gate behind him.

Jack froze mid-run. Oliver let a burger slide off the grill and hit the ground where the dog quickly ran off with it. Martin was looking worse for wear, but he was standing tall and healthy none the less. His black hair was cropped shorter than it had been when he was still in the army, and he'd lost a bit of weight. His hoodie hung from his frame like a curtain wrapped around a toddler, and his jeans were worn through and faded. His sneakers were dried out and the material was flaking apart. In comparison to Jack and Oliver dressed in new shirts and jeans, Martin looked like a bit of a bum.

Oliver dropped the spatula he was using and ran over to the newcomer, a wide smile. "Martin?" he explained, closing the space between them with staggering speed. "Dutch! You came, man!"

Before the younger man could react Oliver threw his thick arms around him and lifted Martin clean off his feet. Martin laughed through his painful groan as Oliver practically crushed his ribcage.

Martin smirked as the bigger man put him down. "When you said barbeque, I thought 'aww, hell, this I gotta see.' So here I am." He held up a bottle of supermarket value cola he brought with him. "I brought soda."

"Nice. Thanks." Oliver accepted the bottle as Jack came over, ditching the laser tag gear.

"Hey, dude. Good to see you again." Martin said as the two knocked fists.

"Ditto..." Jack looked at the barbeque as Oliver rushed over in an attempt to save the burgers he'd just let catch fire. "So, you like your food burned?"

Soon they were all seated at the table, tucking into their charred meat doused with lots of sauce to make it edible. The kids actually took an amazing amount of joy sawing through their burgers, while the adults remained somewhat more amused by the conversation going around the table.

Until Killian's attention was drawn to the dogtags around Martin's neck. "Martin? Were you in the army?" he asked.

Chapel glanced up and grinned. "Yup. Under the command of daddy dearest." He nodded to Oliver who smiled and shook his head, dropping more potato salad on his plate.

"How old were you?" Killian furthered.

"How old are you?" the older man shot back.

"Eleven." Killian said proudly, like he had earned his age like a medal of honour.

"I was much older than that." Martin assured.

"How old _were_ you?" Kate suddenly asked, curious now.

"Old enough."

Martin looked up at Jack who had spoken. They both grinned and Martin leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, that was what I was going to say."

"Would you go back to it?" Kate asked. "To what you did during the war?"

"Oh, right." Oliver dropped his cutlery and grabbed his wife's hand. "Honey, no. We talked about this."

"No, Oliver, he should know!" Kate retorted. "Martin..." she began but Oliver jumped to his feet.

"Honey, no! Martin's only just got a job. He's still too..."

"Oliver, what rot!" his wife shot him a look which caused six foot something man to retreat back to his seat like a scolded dog. "Martin's survived with you all this time. I think he's up for anything."

"I'm sorry, up for what?" Martin suddenly asked, dumb smile on his face, looking across the faces of the adults sitting at the table.

Jack opened his mouth, but Kate cut across him.

"Captain Byrne called by yesterday." Kate said. "He's looking for veterans as infantry commanders to crew the _Vilnius_ on her maiden voyage. He called Oliver to lead the group. Oliver of course said yes and ships out tomorrow evening."

Martin nodded, still grinning. "Well... I didn't get a call."

"Oliver can recruit whomever he needs." Kate explained. "And I think a technical specialist fluent with both UNSC and Elite technology would be very handy."

Martin nodded and put down his cutlery. "Look... Kate, I... I appreciate what you're doing. Yes my job sucks and I haven't exactly been a model citizen since... well... you know... but I don't think going back to the murder and mayhem that turned me into this is going to help." He finally lowered his tone so only he could hear himself. "Even if I was good at it."

---***---

**UNSC **_**Vilnius**_**, Enforcer Class Cruiser [Docked with PSC **_**Heaven**_**,** **Reyes-McLees Shipyards Platform], Earth High Orbit [Sol System], May 3 2563.**

Five years the Enforcer had been under construction within the womb of the private shipping company's orbital platform, _Heaven_. The _Heaven_ had been around since the first battle for Earth back in 2552, and had be churning out small time freight ships in small fleets of four at a time since the war ended. The UNSC _Vilnius_ was her first military contract since the war ended, and soon the maiden voyage could begin... as soon as the documentation was in order.

The _Vilnius _Enforcer class cruiser was for the most part salvaged from an old Halcyon class cruiser which had fought during the war. Over five years the _Heaven_ crew had renovated, retro-fitted and expanded the old Halcyon to produce the frightful Enforcer.

The Enforcer class would spearhead long term space deployment. It was fitted with a Mark II Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Slipspace Engine redesigned by Sangheili engineers, making the five kilometre long craft capable of making long slipspace 'hops' at 5.7 lightyears a day. She was fitted with all the standard mod-cons, from Magnetic Acceleration Cannons, Archer missile pods, 110mm rotary cannons, 120mm ventral guns and motion tracking GUA-23/AW/Linkless feed auto-cannons, to fighter/drop ship hangar bays, cryo-storage facilities, extensive infantry armouries and common rooms. In all, she was capable of housing a crew of 500, plus four whole infantry battalions. But some of the features the Enforcer had other UNSC ships did not were the Sangheili fitted plasma cannons, countermeasure 'point-lasers,' forcefields laid over the three meter thick armoured hull and a new nuclear weapon delivery system code-named 'Horizon.' Also on board, which was new for UNSC warships, was a hydroponics deck, which could supply the crew with food, oxygen and water for up to five years.

But the list of technical specs did not end there. It carried on through a ten thousand page manual, none of which Captain Shane Byrne was expecting to be able to memorise. He hoped his crew familiarised themselves thoroughly with the systems they were responsible for.

On board the _Vilnius_, permanent and temporary staff were set apart by uniform. The _Vilnius_ staff were dressed in black and navy trim overalls, with the identifying patch on their shoulder depicting the silhouette of the Enforcer class cruiser, UNSC _Vilnius_ printed around the circumference. The _Heaven_ crew were clad in crimson.

As the tram stopped on the aft deck, Byrne noted almost everything was announced by a pleasant female voice.

"_Welcome to the command centre."_ She announced kindly as the captain disembarked the Enforcer's tram system.

Byrne was clad in black and navy like his fellows, captain rank markings on his shoulder and several service awards pinned to the front of his uniform. The captain had all the looks of a battle hardened leader about him. Physically fit, a stern look in his eye and a temper that demanded respect. He had brown hair cropped in a Marine Corps 'high 'n tight' style, and dark eyes.

No sooner had he stepped off with a group of _Vilnius _engineers, the doors slid shut behind him and the tram slid back down the rails and disappeared into the tunnel they had come out of. The command deck was spacious. There were some branching hallways, but the main corridor took him directly to the bridge. As if sensing his presence, the bulkhead hissed and smoothly parted down the middle down and across before sliding away in four parts, revealing the bridge.

The bridge was also spacious. The entire front end was re-enforced glass broken up into squares by armoured supports. The ceiling was low, but the walls were far apart from each other. In the centre of the bridge was a chair set on a platform, undoubtedly the captain's nest where Byrne would sit and issue orders from. It would take getting used to. Byrne was used to commanding his crew on his feet. The various stations from weapons, communications and ship-systems surrounded the captain's chair, with the navigation station sunken down slightly in a well surrounded by blinking holographic panels and displays.

Crewmen stepped aside and saluted the captain as he passed through, looking around and inspecting every station which were, for now, empty. Every now and then a diagnostic staff would sit in one of the seats to run some tests, but right now Byrne's bridge crew wasn't even on board the Vilnius yet. They had been on board yesterday to prepare themselves for the maiden voyage tomorrow. For now they got to spend their time with their families.

"Captain Shane Byrne?" a voice asked, drawing the man's attention.

Byrne straightened up and turned to face three figures clad in white dress-uniforms enter the bridge and halt to salute. The captain quickly identified a navy admiral accompanied by an army colonel and ODST major and immediately returned the salute.

"Getting settled in I see, captain." Major Fillion said with his usual boyish smirk. "How's the old gal fare you?"

"So far, so good, major." Byrne said. "I've heard not but good things from the diagnostic staff all day."

"Good to know." The older admiral said. Admiral Bower was essentially in charge of Project Enforcer, and while he could have assumed command of the _Vilnius_ himself, he figured it was more fitting to grant a true veteran and war-hero the honour. After all, Bower spent the war time in a bunker, co-ordinating ships, not commanding their crew. He figured he'd stick with what he was good at. Besides, Byrne's record was so exemplary, anyone who had seen Captain Byrne's service record would gladly place the first Enforcer class ship in his capable hands... but it was apparent Colonel Wilkes didn't feel the same way.

"Nice to hear you've heard nothing bad, since I have heard nothing at all." The colonel, Wilkes as Byrne recognised him from his file as an ONI officers who would be on board for the maiden voyage. Byrne wasn't sure why he was even going to be on board, but he didn't have any right to kick the colonel out. "I still haven't got a clue who the hell you are and why you're in command of this ship."

Byrne could see Fillion boiling up to say something snide, but the major maintained his posture and rocked on his toes slightly, taking a deep breath and forcing a polite smile. "Oh, now, sir. No need to be rude. All you had to do was ask... and I'm sure the feeling is mutual." He added seeing the look on Byrne's face.

"No need to be smart, Fillion." Wilkes snapped. He flicked quickly through the file and snapped it shut again. "So, captain. Don't you have anything better to do than command prototype cruisers? Don't you have a wife to go home to?"

Byrne didn't react in a very obvious way. It started with a slight tremble in his right hand and a twitch in his eye. The admiral didn't notice, but Fillion, who'd memorised Byrne's record, did. The major quickly stepped between the two and looked at Wilkes keeping his tone low so the admiral wouldn't hear.

"You might want to think very carefully about the next words out of your mouth, _sir_." The major said in a low mutter. Wilkes opened his mouth to speak, but Fillion glared adding in a low whisper. "That means shut the hell up."

Colonel Wilkes was about to erupt when he noticed Byrne's patience with him was wearing very thin. He slowly lowered his gaze, then glanced at the admiral as Major Fillion pretended to be interested in the command chair centre bridge. "Sir." The younger colonel said hoarsely. "Our mission briefing?"

"Of course." The admiral glanced between the three officers before handing a data key to Byrne. "Your mission objectives and further details are on this data vessel."

"Mission objectives, sir?" Byrne said mildly confused. "Isn't this a test run for the prototype?"

"Yes and no, captain." The admiral explained. "The launch is being televised as a test flight, but in reality you will be contributing to operation 'Halo'."

"Operation Halo, sir?" Byrne asked.

"For the past two years we have been working with the elite government to scour the galaxy and destroy the remaining Halo rings." The admiral said. "But we have a lack of ships to engage in the search, so you will be participating. You have a set area to search, detailed in your mission objectives."

"What do we do if we find a Halo ring?" Fillion asked over his shoulder. "Sir." He added quickly.

"That is where your marines come in." the admiral said. "Call for reinforcements, then send your ODST down to quarantine the 'Cartographer.' Again the details are in the mission briefing." He indicated the data key in Byrne's hand.

"Understood, sir." Byrne nodded.

"Very good, captain." The admiral saluted just as the bridge doors opened again. This time a dozen people in _Vilnius_ uniform marched in and stiffened to salutes at the sight of the officers.

"Permission to come on the bridge, sir." A familiar face announced with a smile. Lieutenant Commander Collins was Byrne's chosen second in command, and most trusted officer.

"Granted, Collins." Byrne returned the salute.

Immediately Collins started pointing staff to their stations. They settled quickly under the order of the superior officer. Byrne saluted the admiral and other two officers who dismissed themselves and left before moving to the command chair.

It felt a little intimidating. Over a thousand archer pods, twenty nuclear weapons and a pair of MAC guns supported by hull melting plasma weapons, thousands of point defence weapons and a fleet of two hundred or so Longsword fighters. So much power at his fingertips. It was like the power of God.

"We're ready to run primary simulations now, sir." The diagnostician sitting at the helm called over his shoulder as Byrne sat down.

He was perched on the edge of his seat first, and very slowly settled back into the gel-cushions, resting his hands on the arm-rests. "Alright..." he took a deep breath and swivelled his chair to his first officer. "Lets get started..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Interval 02**

**Enterprising Young Men**

---***---

The ODST wasn't even sure what to make of it. Multiple colours slid across the holographic panel, swirling like some kind of artificial aurora borealis. Martin found himself mesmerised for a long time at the display before he finally forced himself to snap out of his trance. Blinking hard a few times, the private glanced around to find himself in an alien looking room. Slanted concrete pillars held up the ceiling, the walls were bare and the floor was decorated by long grooves forming alien patterns.

Martin looked down at the assault rifle in his hands. He was clad in ODST uniform. He rubbed the side of his helmet absent mindedly. How did this happen? He didn't even recall the drop. Where was he...

"Did you see that?" a familiar voice asked.

Martin spun around and faced the back of an old friend. He knew exactly who it was by the name _Mason_ printed on the back of his helmet. Daniel stood absently with an identical rifle in his right hand, staring off down an adjacent hallway.

"Daniel?" Martin asked, slowly moving closer.

"Shhhhh." Daniel quickly shushed holding up his hand and slowly moving away, towards the hall. "Can't you hear her?"

Martin stopped and held his breath for a second... nothing...

"Hear what?" the private asked.

Daniel suddenly whirled around and threw down his rifle. "What do you mean 'hear what'?" the corporal yelled, suddenly angry. "Can't you see her?"

Martin stumbled back as something hit him in the chest. It knocked the wind right out of him and caused him to double over. His rifle hit the ground with a loud clatter. Pain spread out across his chest. Something wet dripped onto his bare hands.

Martin gasped for air, but felt his lungs collapse, unable to suck in oxygen. Looking down, he saw his armour was gone. He was just dressed in his black dress uniform. The same uniform he wore at Daniel's memorial service for his family. Samantha, Kyle and Sandra.

There was blood on his hands. His blood. Opening his mouth, desperately gagging for breath, Martin looked up to see Daniel was dressed the same. There were white bandages around his right hand and across the side of his face. Clutched in his hand was a smoking pistol, and his expression was contorted into an expression of rage and grief.

"You made me leave them!" Daniel screamed at the dying private. "We should have stayed with them!"

"We'd... be... dead..." Martin forced out of his throat, regurgitating blood.

"Then so be it!" Daniel screamed, his voice sounding different this time. Something sinister had crept into his tone, like it wasn't Daniel Mason in control anymore... like something evil had possessed him.

There was a gunshot, the first one Martin had heard in a very long time. There was no pain however. Just a flash of red that obscured his vision. The ground was hard beneath his body when his view cleared. He was lying on gravel. In his view was a gravestone. It read 'Samantha Mason, loving wife, greatest mother. R.I.P.' The dates were obscured.

More blood found its way up Martin's throat and poured from the corner of his mouth.

More gunshots...

More pain...

The letters on the grave changed.

_It's all your fault!_

The blood cleared. Cold air suddenly filled Martin's lungs as he tore his eyes open and woke.

---***---

**Cavan Metropolis [Ireland, European Protectorate], Earth [Sol System], May 4 2563.**

The doorbell rang loudly in his ears, forcing Martin to roll over and open his eyes. He looked at the blinking display of his alarm clock. 03:14. What kind of time was this to ring someone's doorbell?

Groaning, Martin pulled on a pair of jeans and crossed his cold apartment. His home wasn't much to look at, a messy hovel littered with dirty washing, pizza boxes and empty soda cans, but it was a roof over his head with running water at least. He was used to living in the suck. He'd been an ODST after all.

The ringing of his doorbell grew more persistent, drawing an aggravated moan from the young man. "All right!" he shouted at the door as he reached out for the handle. "Keep your pants on!"

Twisting the lock and turning the handle, Martin pulled the stiff door open, hearing the old wood creak and the rusty hinges groan. Letting his apartment door hang open about half way, Martin leaned against the mouldy wooden doorframe, a wide smirk plastered across his face at the sight of who was calling over.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere in orbit by now?" Martin asked.

The woman standing outside his door folded her arms across the front of her white naval dress uniform. She had a stern look in her slanted eyes which pierced straight through Martin's, causing him to secretly shudder. He hated it when she used to look at him like that. It always meant he was on the verge of causing a volcanic eruption.

Lieutenant Nicole Cho was as good a pilot as she was hot-tempered. She'd graduated with honours after only two years of flight school in China, flown over ten thousand missions in drop ships and fixed wing fighters in her first five years of active duty, and had been at the helm of a UNSC battle cruiser twice now, first time during the first battle of Earth, second time during the second assault of New Mombasa. Last Martin had heard of her assignment on board the UNSC _Vilnius _for her maiden voyage, which should commence in little over eighteen hours. This was an important time for her... so why was she here?

"You look... official." Martin glanced her up and down.

"And you look like a bum." Nicole replied, that stern look in her eyes not fading a bit.

There was a short awkward silence before Martin opened his mouth to speak.

"Lucy is fine, by the way." Nicole quickly added. "She'll be staying with my mother while I'm on the _Vilnius_."

"Oh good." Martin chuckled. "Two years without so much as a phone call and you think I'm still obsessing about the cat."

"She's your cat."

"Yours now." Martin retorted, shaking his head. "What are you doing here, Nicole?"

"I was in the neighbourhood..." she started, but Martin huffed.

"Bullshit. You're still a terrible liar."

She gave the young man a sarcastic look, before her eyes strayed to the messy interior of his apartment. "Fine. Captain Burns, remember him?" Martin nodded. "He wants you on the _Vilnius_."

"And what do you want?" Martin asked, his smirk fading.

Nicole narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'd _like_ you to do something with your life, Private Chapel."

"Oh, yeah." Martins aid smugly. "You're really putting the foot down on 'official' gear, Lieutenant Cho."

"Damn it, stop acting like a child, Martin!" Nicole took a sigh, rubbing her forehead and staring at the floor at her feet. A long silence later she slowly looked up. "Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. What are you now? A nobody... some worker struggling to pay the rent on his nine to five while deep down in his heart he knows damn well the only thing he was ever good at was being ordered to aim his rifle at any given enemy and fire."

"I'm not going to kill for the UNSC ever again." Martin began.

"You never killed for the UNSC!" Nicole shouted. "You killed for yourself. You killed because it's the only thing you were ever good at. You became a soldier because you knew you would be good at it..."

Martin angrily stopped her there, stepping forward and grabbing a handful of her uniform, pulling her closer. "Became a soldier?" he snarled venomously. "Eighteen of us, all sixteen years old, attacked in the night by a Covenant raiding party! They killed our parents in front of us, hunted us down liked dogs! When the sun came up were surrounded by death and destruction, up to our shins in gore and holding weapons that never intended to be used as weapons. We didn't become soldiers. We were made."

"Fine." Nicole brushed him off, straightening her uniform. "You didn't have control over what you became. Which is why maybe you should start taking control of what you're becoming now."

Without another word, the lieutenant turned and walked away, stepping quickly without looking back.

Martin took a deep breath and leaned out of his door, calling after her. "Why do you care all of a sudden?"

Nicole missed a stride and stopped. She hung her head and Martin saw her let out a sigh before glancing over her shoulder and speaking one last sentence before briskly disappearing from view. "I never stopped caring."

---***---

**European International Spaceport [Germany, European Protectorate], Earth [Sol System], May 4 2563.**

Stepping off the transport shuttle, Martin shouldered his duffel bag a little higher and descended the ramp of the civilian shuttle. The spaceport was bustling with people, mostly passengers heading to orbital stations and space shuttles. The rest were marines boarding the numerous DC-77 Pelican drop ships parked on the tarmac. Orange clad port personnel gave instructions to pilots who tested engines and taxied to their allotted parking strip.

Lost in the crowd, Martin moved forward. There were men and women saying goodbye to families, kissing wives, husbands, sons and daughters. Some were hysterical, demanding their loved ones heading for the _Vilnius _had to send a message every day. It seemed excessive to the ODST. After all, the guy who registered him for the mission at the recruitment office had told him it would only be three months top. Besides, most marines didn't have as dangerous a job as the ODST who'd be on board. The marines were primarily ship-board security, and would at most be sitting in Pelicans a thousand feet above the battlefield. It was the ODST who were dropped into the shit.

Pushing his way past a young man saying goodbye to his mother, Martin walked to the nearest Pelican. The troop bay was only half full of men and women roughly his age carrying green duffel bags and clad in civilian clothing. Suddenly Chapel heard a voice.

"Dutch! Dutch, wait up!" it was older than when he'd last heard it. Gruffer.

Martin froze halfway up the Pelican ramp and turned around. Walking up to him was a person he'd seen this morning in his nightmare... but he was completely different. What had once been a handsome young man was now a gruff, scarred and practically bald man nearly in his thirties. Mason's scars crisscrossed over the side of his face, and his right eye was partially glazed over. The burns he had sustained during the war covered most of his scalp, creating a large patch where hair would never grow again. As a result all his hair was shaved off.

"Dutch!" Daniel Mason called again, running up to Martin and dropping his bag by his feet. As soon as his arms were free he threw them around the younger ODST. "How've you been, kiddo?" he sounded happy. Happier than Martin figured a war veteran of his calibre should have been.

"Mason." Martin said with mild surprise. "Who drafted you?"

"Some colonel guy. He'll be on the _Vilnius _with us." Daniel said gleefully. "Came to my house and everything. What about you. Who knocked on your door?"

"Nicole."

"Oh, shit." Mason laughed. "How did that go?"

"Shitty. I didn't even know you were living in Europe." Martin quickly changed the subject. Mason was American, Manhattan born and raised. But something he couldn't believe any more was that Captain Byrne actually called Mason. He must have known Daniel was a little unstable since the war. Last thing he needed was to be launched back into service.

Daniel nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. Since... well... you know. Since then I had to get away, you know? Start over new."

"Yeah..." Martin nodded absently. "But don't you think going back to the army is a bit... you know."

"Hate to say it, but I kinda miss it." Daniel shrugged. "C'mon lets get some seats." He picked up his duffel and carried Martin's for him.

"Uh..." Martin glanced over the heads of the crowd and spotted Oliver and Jack saying goodbye to their girls. "Gimme a sec, okay?"

Daniel nodded and went to get some seats. Martin descended the ramp, fought through the mass of bodies again and made it to the low gates surrounding the tarmac the pelicans were set down on. On the inside were the UNSC personnel. Their families had to stay outside.

"Grim. Raptor." Martin called to the two. "Ready to go?"

Oliver turned with a surprised expression on his face. "Dutch? Holy shit! You're coming?"

Martin nodded. "I was talked into it."

Jack smirked and slapped the younger ODST on the shoulder. "Good to have you with us again, man."

The two said their final goodbyes and started to move to the Pelicans. Susan reached out and grabbed Jack however, and pulled him in for another hug, sobbing into his jumper.

"You can't go... you can't go." She kept repeating through muffled sobs.

Jack patted her head and held her close, whispering something in her ear. Martin watched and read his lips.

"_I love you. I will come back to you."_

Feeling a little awkward, Martin turned to follow Oliver when Kate Reynolds called out to him.

"Martin Chapel!" the ODST turned to Oliver's wife to see tear stains on her cheeks. Jack had pried himself away and she was holding on to Susan who was sobbing as Kate looked at him sternly. "You bring those two back to us!" she pointed at Oliver and Jack.

"Yes, ma'am!" Martin assured with a salute before turning and returning to the pelican.

The deck rattled beneath his sneakers as he strode between two lines of new faces. New marines, possibly ODST fresh out of training by the looks of them. Some were wearing army dress uniforms, others were in civvies. As he passed he saw Jack wiping his eyes.

"Raptor. You good?" Martin asked softly, and Jack quickly nodded.

"Yeah. I'll live."

Martin sat down between Mason and a very nervous man Martin's age in black ODST dress uniform.

"You okay?" Martin asked the pale man as he did up his seatbelt.

"Should I be?" the new ODST said in a shaky voice. "We're about to fly into space in a tin can. The only thing protecting us from the deadly vacuum outside is an inch of armour, insulation and cheap recycled plastic."

"This guy's been negative for the past ten minutes now." Daniel said quietly.

"If we were supposed to fly, God would have given us jetpacks!" the new ODST shouted at Mason. "One fuse out of place, one loose wire and the whole fucking thing fails. Without power delivered to the right place at the right time this flying brick hits the deck harder than an HEV on fire and packed with twelve Spartans! Does that sound fun to you?"

"Are you an ODST?" Martin asked.

"Corporal Hamish McKay." The man replied, his English accent becoming more obvious now. "Demolitions."

"Then man up and stow your tongue, Helljumper!" Martin barked. "You're scaring the shit out of me!"

Hamish quickly fell silent, but still nervously gripped his seat's arm rests.

The ramp of the Pelican closed and engulfed the troop bay in darkness for a moment before crimson hazard lights flicked on, bathing the interior in eerie shadows. At the same time a female voice crackled over the three speakers set in the ceiling of the troop bay.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, this is Chief Petty Officer Fox speaking." _The voice said. _"As we run the pre-flight checklist, please ensure all seat backs and tray tables are in the upright position, and that your seatbelt is securely fastened."_

"Loves the sound of her own voice, doesn't she?" Mason muttered, to which Martin shrugged.

"_The flight plan is to take off and make a straight burn for high orbit where the Vilnius is awaiting our arrival. Total flight time, ten minutes. So sit back and enjoy your time with Fox airlines."_

Sitting closest to the hatch between the cockpit and the troop bay, Oliver impatiently banged the metal door twice. "Okay, Foxxy! Spare us the pain and get on with this!"

A moment later Martin felt his stomach churn. Outside the pivoting engines roared and pushed the pelican into the air. A halo of dust was thrown up as Fox guided the drop ship up. As soon as they left the ground, there was a whir as the landing gear retracted, and the nose angled upward. Martin's stomach churned again as they shot up into the air. McKay cried out painfully, in response to which another ODST newcomer slapped him over the head, calling him a sissy.

Slowly but surely the gees levelled out and the turbulence stopped. Soon, Jack undid his harness and drifted free from his seat. They must have left Earth's gravity already. CPO Fox hadn't been kidding when she said this would only take ten minutes.

Kicking off his seat, Jack floated across the bay and reached the cockpit. The door swished aside and Martin got a brief glimpse of space outside. And just like back in the old days, he found himself mesmerised. Outside was a flat, inky black canvas with white pinpricks of light glowing vibrantly in the darkness.

And then the _Vilnius_ glode into view. A colossal five kilometre long vessel, armed to the teeth and coated in a thick armoured hull. Wrapped around the cruiser were the arms of the _Heaven_'s dock, scaffolding and tubes linking the station and the ship together. Jack returned to his seat and the door slid shut again.

"Some view." He said as he strapped himself in again.

Soon Fox's voice came back as she left the intercom on while she spoke over the radio.

"_Alpha 1-1 Flying-Fox to UNSC Vilnius." _She announced. _"Carrying marine package one of nine, requesting permission to come aboard, over."_

There was a brief pause before a male voice replied. _"Permission granted Flying-Fox. Opening docking bays. Set down in cradle B-10, over and out."_

Soon enough the soldiers on board felt the comforting pull of the _Vilnius_' artificial gravity pull them down into their seats again. The landing gear whirred and there was a soft clang as the pelican settled in her cradle, which would hold the drop ship in place for the duration of its stay on board. The rear hatch hissed and opened in two parts. The top half folded away, and the bottom opened outward forming a ramp down to the deck.

A cacophony of clicks later the troops on board were on their feet and marching down the ramp into the _Vilnius_' hangar. The space was cavernous, lined with pelican drop ships, longsword fast attack bombers, warthog LRVs, mongoose ATVs and scorpion tanks. Deck crew moved about, mounting rockets on bombers, finishing the modifications to ground vehicles and running diagnostics on the pelican drop ships permanently attached to the _Vilnius_.

"Awesome." Martin breathed, stepping out of the crowd of marines stunned at the sight of the colossal hangar, and looked out the large bay doors. They were open, and separating him from the vacuum of space outside was some sort of energy field. He looked up and saw a Pelican fly through, breaking the force field and passing through without venting the precious air inside the hangar.

"Hey, check it out!" an exited voice shouted. "An alien cruiser!"

Turning his head, Martin saw Daniel step up beside him with a scowl on his face. In his field of vision was also the silhouette of a Sangheili cruiser. The five kilometre long behemoth looked like a sleek, bulbous fish hook from profile, and floated a while, before the engines stationed a little back from the midsection glowed luminescent blue. A moment later the nose angled away and she was away, cruising seemingly slowly off into space. The second the cruiser was clear of Earth's gravitational pull, a tear in space opened up. Light spilled across the hull and a split second the intertwining arcs of white light embraced the sleek body of the assault cruiser before swallowing up the craft. The second the tail disappeared into slip space, the tear imploded on itself and sealed, leaving no trace of the 5346 meter long Sangheili star ship. The only thing it left behind was the small insectoid phantom drop ship.

The beetle-like craft soared closer and weaved past a pair of pelicans heading for the _Vilnius_ and slowed at the last minute. At a safe cruising speed the army green Sangheili drop ship passed through the force field and over the heads of Martin and Daniel. They watched it go and settle in the cradle beside the pelican they rode in on. The rear of the vehicle opened outward in four parts that folded neatly away to reveal the spacious interior of the phantom.

Inside were seven Sangheili in battle uniform, carrying bags similar to those the marines carried over their shoulders with their energy weapons slung on their hips or backs. The eight foot tall aliens dismounted their drop ship as Daniel and Martin joined Oliver and Jack who watched the Sangheili march past them. Various marines, especially Daniel, scowled, but the aliens seemed to ignore them.

Martin folded his arms across his chest as one of them glanced sideways at him. The eight foot tall alien had a broad chest and narrow waist, elongated head with his jaw split four ways and he walked with a slight hunch. Unlike his fellows who wore sleek combat armour moulded to their bodies, this Sangheili wore gun-metal grey ceremonial armour.

"That the arbiter?" Oliver asked as the Sangheili moved on without so much as a blink.

"Looks like him." Martin replied. "He looks so much bigger on TV."

The final Sangheili passed and also glanced sideways at the four marines watching them. This one was shorter than the rest, and slimmer, and whereas the others had bald scalps, this one had a vibrant dark blue plume of wavy hair that cascaded down its neck and past the chrome shoulder pads of its armour.

As the female Sangheili warrior passed, she nodded a greeting to the marines who stood by stunned, all four staring at her as she followed her squad.

"Was that..." Mason asked darkly.

"Yup." Martin nodded.

"That means..." Oliver began.

"Pretty much." Martin finished. "We learn something new every day."

"Yeah. It's a fucking trip." Daniel growled walking away.

"Hey, Raptor. Aren't the elites an aristocracy?" Martin asked, shouldering his duffel bag as the others gathered their things and followed Mason. "I thought it would be against the rules for a girl to be a fighter."

"Maybe she has connections." Jack smirked. "She seems like the kind of shy chick who doesn't say much, has short bursts of intellectual conversation and has nil changes of ever having a boyfriend, but through a cruel twist of sod's law turns out to be a minx in bed."

Martin opened his mouth to make a comeback, but nothing came to mind. He merely shook his head and said: "You are so weird."

"Yeah. What are you on?" Hamish asked, joining the group.

"Crack." Jack replied casually. "Cause that's what I'm all about. Gettin' fucked."

"Alright, that's enough, Private Parts." Oliver ordered. "Get to your cots and settle in." He checked his watch. "Blastoff is in twenty."

The group entered a tram and took it to the middle deck. When they got off, all were startled by the polite female voice announcing: _"Welcome to Crew Commons. Have a nice day."_

Following the signs, they finally reached the crew quarters... only to be rooted to the spot. The crew quarters was a large cavernous room much like the hangar, only on a smaller scale. The floor was littered with tables, chairs and various cupboard and lockers. And both walls on either side were riddled with holes. On closer inspection, each wall was a honeycomb of cots, at least ten thousand long and about fifty high. There were strips of light on the floor attached to each 'cot-wall' and hanging from the ceiling were brighter lights that illuminated the chamber.

"Awesome." Martin found himself saying again.

The marines moved in and to the nearest member of staff allotting bunks to marines. The man held a clip board in his fat fingers and was ticking off names as he pointed them to cots. Martin was first in the group.

"Martin Chapel." The ODST said.

The staff member checked his list and nodded. "Lance Corporal." He said, announcing Martin's new rank. In the back of his mind he couldn't help but think 'Nice!' When he left the army he'd still been a private. It was a lousy promotion, but a promotion none the less. "Cot number AC-12." He pointed to row 'AC' and level 12 off the ground.

Martin immediately walked over to the row and looked up. There were no ladders or ropes. There was no way he could climb up to twelve... until suddenly his feet left the ground.

"Whoa!" he cried out, swinging his arms for balance as the gravity-lift slowly lifted Martin into the air. He passed four... nine... ten... twelve. This was it.

Martin quickly grabbed the edge of the hole in the wall and pulled himself into his cot. It was a little claustrophobic... but having trained to fly through space in a coffin-like HEV, Martin knew he'd get used to it. The bottom of his little personal space was cushioned and donned fresh sheets. By his head was a spacious locker where he could stow his things, a reading light and by his feet was a small shelf for his boots. Opening the locker he found two piles of clothes, one plain matte black, the other black and grey camouflage. His new battle dress and dress uniform. He grabbed the BDU fatigues and unfolded the shirt. On his shoulders were lance corporal rank markings, and pinned to his chest was his name 'Chapel.' On one sleeve was an insignia, a long sword he recognised as a katana with a comet spiralling around the hilt. On the circumference of the patch were the words '212th Battalion, 9th Company 'Katana.' New ship, new battalion and a new company... and that didn't even cover all the things new Martin was trying to register.

Suddenly a disembodied voice carried over the intercom and echoed through every nook and cranny on board the _Vilnius_. Everywhere crew stopped what they were doing and perked up their heads to listen to what was being said. Nobody spoke, and the only sound heard on board other than the ominous hum of the slip space engine drawing power was the voice announcing its identity.

"_Crew. This is your captain speaking..."_

---***---

**UNSC **_**Vilnius**_**, Enforcer Class Cruiser [Docked with PSC **_**Heaven**_**,** **Reyes-McLees Shipyards Platform], Earth High Orbit [Sol System], May 4 2563.**

"... I am Captain Shane Byrne." Byrne announced into the microphone hovering in front of his mouth. The mic was attached to his earpiece, which maintained a wireless link with his command chair. He was seated on the edge of his chair, leaned forward as everybody on board the UNSC _Vilnius_, including the bridge crew paid attention to what he had to say. "Some of you know me, and I'm sure many of you do not. But all you have to know is that I am captain of this vessel, and I will make it my personal business to make sure the _Vilnius_' first mission goes without a hitch and that we get you home in one piece. Now, what is our mission you ask? It is simple. Our job is to search a designated sector of space for an artefact ONI calls a Halo. Our mission is to find and quarantine this artefact. For now, that is all you need to know. What I want everybody to focus on is doing their job and making sure our maiden voyage goes smoothly." Byrne paused and glanced at Collins, who nodded with a grin. "We are charging the slip space engines and are preparing for our first jump. If you haven't secured your equipment and yourself, I suggest you do so now. ETA to launch, five minutes."

As Byrne killed the connection with the intercom, Lieutenant Commander Collins moved closer. "Good speech, sir. Short and to the point."

"That wasn't a speech. That was a ramble." Byrne said sombrely. He wished he could have told the crew more about the mission plan.

"You're the captain." Collins assured. "You're entitled to ramble, sir."

"Hmmm." Byrne rolled his eyes and looked to Lieutenant Cho manning the helm. She was in Byrne's view the best pilot in the UNSC naval force. "Cho. Tell me, is Chapel on board my ship?"

Cho let out a small sigh and nodded without turning in her seat. Her seat was lower that everyone else's, sunken into a well at the front most part of the ship. She had glass panels in front and below her, and was immersed in scrolling and blinking holographic displays all around her. Resting her head back she reached out and continued typing commands into her console.

She was about to answer when a voice answered for her. "Why, you folks wouldn't be talking about Lance Corporal Martin Chapel, would you?"

The bridge doors swished shut behind Major Fillion and the ODST commander stiffened into a salute as the captain swivelled to face him. "Permission to come onto the bridge, sir."

"Granted." Byrne grinned and returned the gesture.

Silently, Fillion walked up beside the helmsman and curiously looked down at her.

"So." Cho began, not taking her eyes off what she was doing. "Its lance corporal now is it?"

"Proud of him?" Fillion asked with a grin.

"No. The last thing Chapel needs is responsibility." Cho answered honestly, causing Fillion to chuckle.

"I made major, didn't I?"

"You're different in so many ways." Cho said, looking up at the major.

"Different as in better?" Fillion asked suggestively.

"That's not what I said." Cho smiled, avoiding his gaze.

The major smiled, still looking at her, trying to meet her eyes. "But it's what you were implying, right?"

Captain Byrne suddenly cleared his throat loudly, breaking up their little conversation. "Are we cleared to leave, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir!" Cho called over her shoulder. "Breaking dock in five... four... three... two... one..." she tapped a glowing button and there was a long, loud clang that reverberated through the ship's hull. The sudden lurch caused Fillion to mildly stumble.

"Haven't got the lightest touch, have you, lieutenant?" the major joked.

"Bite me." Cho muttered under her breath before raising her voice. "Sub-light engines are humming... docking bays are closing... we are secure and away."

"Roger that." Byrne sat back and turned his chair left slightly. "Prep for slip space jump."

"Prep for jump, aye." Blaine barked from his station. The lieutenant's console linked the man directly to engineering, where his people went through pre-jump checklists before sending him back go-or-no-go's quickly, green lights started blinking all across his holo-display before the lieutenant looked over his shoulder at the captain, all smiles. "We are green on my screen, sir."

"Clear for jump in ten." Cho announced.

Byrne counted slowly backwards from ten in his head. When he reached zero, Cho spoke again.

"We are clear of Earth's gravity. We are jump ready, sir." Lieutenant Cho said.

"Alright people. Here we go." Collins sat in his seat beside the captains. "Captain?"

Byrne took a breath, closed his eyes for a moment then nodded. "Lieutenant Cho... take us to slip space."

"Jump to slip space, aye." Cho repeated the order, frantically typing at her controls. "Co-ordinates are locked... Feeding power... Jumping in five... four... ready... steady... go!"

Space tore and stretched. Stars winked out of existence and were replaced streaks of light. White light exploded across the hull of the _Vilnius_ as she was consumed in space under space. One minute she hung a billion miles above Earth, a tear in space on her bow. The next moment she vanished, leaving no evidence she was ever there.

The _Vilnius_' mission had officially begun...


	4. Chapter 4

**Interval 03**

**A Time and Place**

---***---

**Crew Deck, Commons [UNSC **_**Vilnius**_**, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.**

"The marine's most valuable weapon is the marine's own bare hands!" Sergeant Daniel Mason announced as Martin and Hamish raised their hands and lowered into fighting stances. Whereas Hamish lowered into your standard 'ready' stance he was taught in the academy, Martin planted himself differently, shifting his weight to his back, hands raised to either side of his face. "In a nuke fight, why the hell should a marine use his fists, or his knife when all he has to do is push a button, you ask?" Mason continued perched on the edge of the sparring mat, overlooking the ODST from 9th Company. First and second squad were present for the presentation, with the only exception being Oliver and Jack. "Well how the hell is the enemy supposed to push the button if he doesn't have any fingers left unbroken?" Mason smirked and looked over his shoulder, nodding to the lance corporal.

Martin struck quickly, launching himself forward and aiming for the ribs. Hamish blocked with both fore-arms, exposing the rest of his body. Martin twisted without recoiling from the block and landed an open palm across the corporal's face. A second later Martin's foot made contact with the back of Hamish's knee and before the corporal realised what was happening, he was lying flat on his back, Martin knelt over him, rubber training knife in one hand, poised to strike for the heart.

"Ow." Hamish moaned as Martin stood and helped the older ODST to his feet. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Before Martin could answer, Mason spoke up again. "You're about to learn that from me! Today it's my job to teach you how to fight like a real badass! It's your job to shut the fuck up and learn." Daniel shoved Hamish to the ground with the other ODST.

"What the academy teaches you is how to engage another human being in hand to hand combat." Martin announced, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked his old self again, just like during the war in his new black camo battle dress. He'd regained the lost weight thanks to regular meals and was getting back into the routine of soldiering again. "What we are going to teach you today is how to fight a Covenant elite."

One of the marines, a young woman with pale blonde hair and a round boyish face, with 'Baker' printed on her uniform raised her hand. She was built quite athletically, but remained the shortest of all the marines, male and female here. "Don't you mean just 'elites?' They're not Covenant any more."

Realising his mistake, Martin grinned and rubbed his forehead. "Two points to the blonde."

She smiled brightly before Mason shot her down again. "Which you lost for raising your hand to ask a question. Orders were to shut the hell up and listen." The girl now scratched her neck awkwardly. "The basics of fighting a bigger, stronger and generally faster enemy is very simple." Daniel said. "Don't kick above the waist. It's too slow. Aim low with your boots, go for the shins, or the back of the knees. With punches, stay away from the gut. You'd be surprised how much muscle you'll meet in that area. Aim for the ribcage, the throat or the face. If you need to deliver a stumbling blow, put a knee in the groin, or an elbow in the sternum."

Mason nudged Martin who reached to the back of his waist and produced the training knife. He tapped the blade, causing a soft metallic 'ding' which caused Hamish to turn green. The lance corporal hadn't been using a training knife at all, but a real seven-inch clip-point carbon-steel KA-bar.

"Every soldier should have one of these too." Martin continued. "The knife has a million practical uses, from everyday tools to an implement of death. Blades have been a soldier's weapon since the beginning of time, and though our other weapons have evolved and advanced, our knife remains our number one tool. But be warned. Any fool can stab. It takes a truly skilled warrior to kill with a blade."

Martin suddenly lunged at Mason. He grabbed the sergeant around the neck, drove a knee in the small of the older man's back and pulled him backwards off-balance, knife held high in his free hand. The blade was pointed down at Mason's chest as it swiftly fell towards flesh. But just as swiftly, Daniel reacted, throwing up both arms and crossing one over the other, blocking Chapel's blow between his wrists. The sergeant then swivelled sideways, slipped out of the lance corporal's grip and kicked him in the back of the knee. As Martin dropped to the deck, Mason twisted the younger ODST's wrist, forced open his hand and took the knife away with him, bringing it down on it's own owner and pressing the pointed tip against Martin's neck and freezing there. The struggle had lasted less than a second, and if any of the spectators had blinked they would have missed it. Martin had attacked Mason, only to have the sergeant counter his assault, take his knife away and 'kill' the lance corporal with it.

'What-the-fuck.' Hamish mouthed, staring wide-eyed as Mason helped his friend back onto his feet.

A sudden slow applause echoed throughout the gym. Turning his head, Martin saw the doors were open, and six tall figures strode in. The Sangheili were clad in their full combat armour, helmets tucked under one arm. In the past few days, Martin and the other marines had avoided having to talk to the aliens. But today it seemed the inevitable was about to happen.

The lead Sangheili, the Arbiter, was clad in unique ceremonial armour, and stood at least three feet taller than the humans. He walked right up to Mason and nodded impressed.

"Your combat style is quite..." as the alien tried to think of the word to describe 'intuitive,' Mason cut him off.

"What are you doing here, split-lip?" the sergeant growled, causing the Arbiter's eyes to widen slightly with surprise.

"The Warriors of Dawn haven't been able to practice combat since we left Sanghelios." The Arbiter began, ignoring Mason's blatant insult to his face.

"What our sergeant meant was; what are you doing on this ship, calamari?" a marine by the name of Petrenko called out. The other ODST were on their feet now, forming a line beside Daniel and Martin.

The Arbiter glanced between the marines before slowly nodding. "I see what is happening here. Perhaps you would be less hasty to judge if you knew what this team of warriors could do. You see, sergeant, my men are very much like yours. We also deploy from orbit using..."

"You're nothing like us." Mason snapped, his eyes flaring angrily now.

Martin noticed and quickly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Dude. Lay off. They just wanna use the gym. I say we let them."

Mason tried to shrug Chapel off, but the lance corporal held fast. After a moment of staring up at the Sangheili, the sergeant slowly nodded. "Fine. Marines, fall out. Let our, _guests_ access the gym."

Slowly but surely the ODST gathering dispersed. Some moved to the various exercise machines housed in the room, while others just left. As the aliens also dispersed to explore the various machines that must have been alien to them, Martin and Mason stood alone by the edge of the sparring mat as a familiar figure walked past.

The female Sangheili was dressed in the same chrome armour from when the marines had first seen her enter the _Vilnius_. Her wavy purple plumage was tied in a tight knot at the back of her sleek skull and her helmet was held in one hand. She was almost a foot taller than the lance corporal, but not much wider, her combat armour hugging her slender, almost human figure.

"Thank you." She said, halting in front of the humans, speaking softly.

"What?" Martin asked absently, turning his head to look at her.

"For standing down." The Sangheili said with what was supposed to be a smile. Her tone sounded almost smug now. "When one is afraid to fight, it is always best to run or hide."

"Afraid to fight?" Daniel snapped. "What the hell makes you think I'm afraid to fight?"

"The way you buckled so easily and listened to a... subordinate." The female sighed with a glance at Martin's rank, turning away and walking very slowly to the arbiter who was inspecting the treadmill Private Baker ran on. "I can't blame a human for being afraid of us though."

"Hey!" Mason yelled at her back ignoring Martin who tried to hold him back. "Let's get this straight, bitch! I'm not afraid of you split-faced motherfuckers, right? I'll take any of you on, anytime!"

The Sangheili female stopped mid step, before turning on her heels and placing her hands on her hips. "Is that so?" everybody in the gym was watching them now. Some marines and ship crew walking past stopped to poke their heads in to see what the commotion was. All eyes were on the two figures standing by the sparring mat in the centre of the room. Martin gestured as many of them to ignore what was happening, but went ignored. "How about now?" the alien turned and strode into the centre of the mat. "Come on then, human. You say you are not afraid? Then prove it!"

Some of the ODST leapt from the exercise machines, backing the lance corporal up. "Go on, sir. Show this bitch!" Baker shouted. "Show them not to mess with real badasses!" Private Petrenko shouted. "Take that whore down, dude." Private Bouncer egged on.

"Alright!" Mason barked, following the Sangheili onto the sparring mat. "You wanna go? Let's go."

Defeated, Martin jogged to the nearest practice weapons rack and pulling a pair of swords off the rack. The practice swords were carved out of hard wood and shaped to follow the design of a shortened katana, with leather bound handles.

"Daniel!" He pushed his way through the crowd surrounding the sparring mat now and tossed the swords to the sergeant. "Catch!"

Mason caught both by the handle, spun them between his fingers and held them ready. Standing silent at the edge of the ring of bodies forming around the mat, Martin's eyes shifted left and right at the group of marines and crewmen surrounding him now. In front of him, the Sangheili raised her hands and took a similar fighting stance to the human's. Spinning one of his swords again, Mason lowered his centre of gravity.

Humans started cheering and throwing their fists into the air. He had at least forty pairs of eyes on him now. Martin caught a glimpse of some marines exchanging wads of cash. No doubt bets were already being placed. He didn't even want to know whom the crowds favoured.

Even the Sangheili watched, though more silently. The Arbiter stood towering over the mass of human bodies, his arms folded across his chest, a disapproving glare in his eyes. For a moment Martin wondered why he looked so disapproving. If a Sangheili female was forbidden from combat, why was she a part of the Arbiter's fighting force? But soon he figured maybe it was the inglorious public spectacle this sparring match had already turned into.

"Well, human?" the Sangheili female called over the marines. "Now what?"

"Now the pain begins!" Daniel shouted, leaping forward and throwing the first blow...

---***---

**Crew Deck, Commons [UNSC **_**Vilnius**_**, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.**

"To be entirely honest, sir, I'm not quite sure I understand the question." Staff Sergeant Reynolds said respectfully. Oliver was walking with Jack and the ONI colonel, Sam Wilkes to meet up with the rest of the ODST for a random inspection. The ONI officer seemed insistent that the Helljumpers be drilled in battle doctrine they already knew backwards, and practice for every possible worst case scenario. But as Oliver had tried to explain to the colonel earlier, was that these boys and girls were wound tight enough, and if they weren't given some space and time, they'd likely snap and be useless to the mission.

"I just want to make sure you know what commands to give when your squad encounters a brute pack supported by a hunter pair." The colonel repeated his question.

"Sir, the hunter pairs turn a standard Covenant make-out session into a full fledged test of a marine's manly prowess." Jack cut in. "Staff Sergeant Reynolds knows to call up the heavy weapons when we see some, sir."

Walking through the crew deck, passing crewmembers who stepped aside to salute the two NCOs and single CO, they moved parallel to the commons. None of the crew was placed in cryo-stasis, since the captain wanted all hands battle ready. As a result, the halls were always inhabited by some crew. None of the sections on the ship were abandoned. It added life to the _Vilnius_, which Oliver suspected was what Captain Byrne was truly after.

"And your men, staff sergeant?" the colonel asked, taking everything said in their conversation down on a data pad. "Are you sure your boys are up to the task? I understand some of the ODST on this ship are war veterans. One of them a boy soldier from Sigma Tel IV."

Halting in front of the closed door leading to the gym where Oliver knew he could find his company of ODST, the staff sergeant turned to Wilkes and looked at him very seriously. "Sir, I can assure you without hesitation, my vets are the best of the best. The boys I served with during the war, the likes of Mason, Meyers, Bouncer and the others are all tough as nails and twice as sharp. And as for Chapel, a more disciplined soldier does not exist. He's not going to crack like most of the Sigma Tel boys. Finally, the new recruits all graduated with honours and came highly recommended. Ninth Company Katana is the best of the best."

Touching the glowing holographic panel in the centre of the doorway, Jack stood aside as the way into the gym parted down the middle to reveal the crowd of cheering marines and ODST inside swarming around the sparring mat, shouting profanities and waving wads of money above their heads.

Staring wide eyed, Oliver and Jack let their jaws drop as the colonel sighed.

"Yes," Wilkes said. "Highly disciplined. Best of the best. I can see that."

"Yikes." Jack muttered. "This is awkward."

Oliver didn't hesitate another second and darted forward, shouldering his way through the mass of humans. The crowd seemed to part as many of the spectators recognised the staff sergeant and started to disperse. Many backed off; fearing running away might instil his wrath. Others scampered as quickly as possible, leaving the gym, saluting the colonel and Sergeant Cryll as they passed.

Soon Oliver stood on the edge of the sparring mat beside Lance Corporal Chapel. Martin stood by with his arms folded across his chest and a defeated expression on his face. On the mat were Sergeant Mason and the Warriors of Dawn lieutenant, the Sangheili female Oliver knew from file as Esne 'Syles. Daniel was armed with a pair of wooden swords, swinging at the Sangheili who blocked against the armour around her wrists and threw low sweeping kicks while dodging the ODSTs blows and flowing around him with the grace of some kind of alien ballet dancer.

"What the hell?" Oliver's eyes flitted from side to side as he followed the flurry of blows being thrown and blocked. Neither the human nor the Sangheili seemed to be making much contact with each other as they constantly dodged and blocked. Both were breathing heavily though, and sweating buckets. "Dutch, what the hell is going on here?"

"Thank God you're here, Grim." Martin said in a bored tone, glancing sideways at his company NCO. "Daniel is sparring with an elite."

"Yeah, I see that." Oliver snapped. "For how long?"

"Oh, about..." Martin checked his watch. "An hour."

Reynolds opened his mouth, his expression changing between that of confusion across various other emotions until it settled on anger. Without another word he charged into the fight and waved his arms.

The female Sangheili jumped back and raised her arms to defend. Mason leapt forward... and froze as the staff sergeant stepped between them, a look that could stop a plasma bolt in it's tracks on his face. He rounded on Daniel and snatched the weapons out of his hands, tossing them aside.

"What-the-fucking-hell-is-going-on-here?!" the staff sergeant yelled at the top of his lungs. "Y'all better start dispersing!" he shouted at the bystanders. Quickly the crowd dispersed and left. He rounded back on Mason and stopped the sergeant from leaving. "Not you, patchwork! What the fucking hell do you think you're doing? We have enough to deal with without you tearing our support squad apart!"

"We were just sparring..." Mason started, but Oliver cut across him.

"I know very fucking well what you were doing!" he yelled. "From now on you are barred from the sparring mat, and if you so much as look at the Warriors of Dawn wrong I will put you in the brig for the rest of this trip, do I make myself clear, buttercup?"

Mason was stunned. Martin didn't even know what to say. The lance corporal's arms fell to his side as he watched the staff sergeant, completely speechless. This was the first time he'd seen Oliver angry... well, he'd seen angry before. He'd seen miffed before... this was beyond anger though. This was fury. And it was terrifying. Reynolds stood almost as tall as the Arbiter and looked as though he might rip Daniel in two.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Mason barked before turning on his heel and robotically marching out of the gym.

Martin watched him go before moving closer to the staff sergeant who stood silent catching his breath. "Jesus, Grim. What was that about?"

"You know damn well what that was about." Oliver said softly, turning back to his old self again. "Mason has history with elites. Pre and post war."

"Yeah, I agree, but jeez dude." Martin lowered his voice.

"Look, I know he's your friend, Dutch. Keep an eye on him though, will you? This is our first mission, and I don't want Mason fucking up and spoiling future missions." Oliver said before walking to where Sergeant Cryll stood by the entrance to the gym. Wilkes had disappeared.

"Yes, sir!" Martin barked and glanced to where the female Sangheili stood catching her breath. None of the other Sangheili talked. None of them even shifted. They just watched the marines leave until it was just the aliens and a single human left. Martin looked sideways to see the female Sangheili watching him.

"Lieutenant 'Syles!" the Arbiter barked, marching up to the silver armoured female.

Only half paying attention, Martin didn't understand everything that was said, but he could tell from the body language that the speech the Arbiter gave the lieutenant in the aliens' native tongue was a reprimand. The female remained silent and slouched slightly, her eyes fixed on the mat between her armoured boots. The Arbiter stood with his shoulders back and brows furrowed.

Watching for a while, Martin caught random phrases which he translated in his head. 'Your history precedes you.' 'Are you crazy?' 'If the alliance is to work, you must discipline yourself.' These were just some sentences in the Arbiter's lecture Martin translated in his head. It sounded like the lieutenant had something against humans, like Mason had something against her kind.

With a sigh, the lance corporal stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out into the hall leaving the aliens behind him. Maybe the Arbiter was right after all. Maybe they weren't so different...

---***---

**Crew Deck, Mess Hall [UNSC **_**Vilnius**_**, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.**

Ghost hour. Cot time for the crew. The engineering deck and the command centre were run on a skeleton crew to make sure everything ran smoothly while key personnel grabbed some winks. This was the quietest time on the _Vilnius_. The halls were empty, recreational areas were abandoned. The only busy areas were the barracks and the officers' quarters. Most of the crew were in their cots. Marines snored loudly over the faint hum of the slip space engines below the crew deck.

The cafeteria would have been empty too... was it not for Mason sitting alone on one of the long benches lining the long tables bolted down to the floor of the mess hall. The shutters dividing the mess from the kitchen were pulled down, the tables were clear and spotless and the lights were dimmed casting a grey gloom across the chamber. Alone, the sergeant sat with his head rested on one arm and his eyes squeezed shut. His heart still burned. No more sparring. If he went near the Sangheili Reynolds would toss him in the brig... this was crazy. Why would that bastard defend those split-faced cunts over one of his own?

There could only be one explanation... some kind of deal. Had they manipulated the staff sergeant somehow? Did they have a hand in the UNSC admiralty? The government?

The sergeant shook his head vigorously. No, this was madness. He was being paranoid.

"How are you doing, sergeant?" a voice said.

Daniel's eyes sprang open and he looked up to see a figure in dress uniform. It was Colonel Wilkes, tired bags under his eyes and his hand clutching his PDA. He didn't seem to let go of that thing. Every time Daniel had spotted the colonel today, the commissioned-officer had been typing in his data pad or scrolling through files.

Mason didn't say anything as the colonel moved closer and removed his cap, placing it on the table opposite the sergeant.

"May I join you?" he asked the NCO, to which Mason nodded. Gingerly, the colonel sat down opposite Daniel, and PDA still clutched tight in his hand, made himself comfortable. "Creepy in the cot hours isn't she? The _Vilnius_ I mean. A charming girl on the bridge, the helmsman I believe, calls these hours 'Ghost Hours.' I believe I know now why."

"We all call them ghost hours." Daniel replied dryly through the swollen lip where the Sangheili bitch had landed a shot earlier. "Sir."

With a chuckle, the colonel nodded his head. "Of course. You must understand, this is only my fourth slip space voyage. During the war I was stationed on Earth, and only after was I put into orbit... but this is not my first time on a long voyage with an elite crew." His voice suddenly turned grave.

Mason didn't say anything, sitting straight up. He was curious where this was going now.

"Quite a tragic event, the flight of the UNSC _Hammer_." Wilkes sighed. "Turned out the elite crew was still loyal to the ways of the Covenant. Too many good men lost their lives in the bombings and the fighting that ensued. Most of them got killed because the do-gooder-captain was an elite lover and refused to believe the aliens were responsible. A few of us with common sense drew arms and tried to defend the crew." He sighed again. "It was how I got this scar, dragging wounded into a life boat." He lifted up the cuff of his sleeve to reveal and small, hardly even visible scar on his wrist, probably where he'd scratched himself, or been hit by shrapnel. Mason scowled at it, causing the scars on his face to twist into a scary glare. "Right... but I suppose that's nothing compared to the suffering you endured at the hands of these aliens, isn't it sergeant? I read your file and must say I'm impressed you were still able to serve with distinction after the elites killed your..."

"Sir... is there a point you're trying to make?" Mason stopped him.

"No, I'm just making conversation."

"Then could we converse about something else, sir?" Daniel asked.

"Very well. How about we talk about alien customs?" Wilkes said. "Did you know the elite females are actually forbidden from combat? They mainly serve as diplomats and priests on the elite home world. And since the UNSC forbade the elites taking any kind of religious leaders on the Halo missions, why on earth would they bring a female with the Warriors of Dawn? I'm not sure about you, sergeant, but I smell something fishy. Captain Byrne reminds me too much of the do-gooder-captain on the _Hammer_, and I think it's obvious Staff Sergeant Reynolds doesn't have our back. Both of them are too blind to see an obvious problem."

"I could watch them, sir." Mason immediately said. "I know the staff sergeant told me to steer clear of them, but I have an affinity for... how should I say? Discretion?" there certainly was something strange going on. He refused to believe the elites were merely here so the UNSC admiralty could suck up to their new allies.

With a smile, Wilkes rose to his feet and tucked his cap over his cropped hair again. "With that knowledge I think I'll sleep soundly again." And without another word, the colonel turned and left the mess hall, leaving Mason in the dim light with only his thoughts... and his plans.

"Oh lord, Samantha." The sergeant whispered to nobody, rubbing his eyes. "What am I going to start?"


End file.
